The Seven Pointed Star
by TheSwordinTheDarkness310
Summary: After the sack of the capital by the Targaryens and the triumph over the Others in the North, another dire threat lingers over Westeros. What will happen when two major religions collide head on, when one is armed with magic and shadow binders while the other has nothing but faith? How deep would the latter have to dig into its roots, to find the defense it needs?
1. The Starry Sept

**Hello everyone! I had once mentioned that I am working on my second story. It is a little late though, sorry about that.**

**Here is my new story hopefully based on a fresh thought. Please give your views about my idea. Is it complete madness? Is it a good idea? Or is it something in between?**

**Thanks.**

**Chapter 1**

**Starry Sept**

"My fellow believers," announced the High Septon, "these are dark times indeed."

An army of armored knights were gathered in front of the High Septon as he spoke from the high platform in the great hall of the Starry Sept, which still stood proud and strong after 1000 years since its construction. About 300 years had passed since the time it had last served as the headquarters of the biggest religion of Westeros.

Said to have its roots in the barren hills of Andalos, the Faith of the Seven had found its way to the Seven Kingdoms through the invading Andals; who had come to the place their descendents now call home about 4000 years ago. Like any proper melting pot civilization, the Andals eventually mingled with the First men, and formed six new kingdoms south of the Neck. Their religion, the Faith of the Seven, which was said to have been brought to the earth by the Seven human incarnations of the gods, became the chief faith of Westeros, surpassing the formers Old gods in all the lands south of the Neck.

Centuries later the Targaryens came riding on their dragons, who also eventually made peace with the Faith after their conquest and themselves became the worshippers of the Seven. It was their ruler, King Baelor the blessed, who constructed the Great Sept of Baelor. Once the tallest &amp; the most magnificient structure, the Sept was now just a pile of rubble, in the city from where the 'Red demon' reigned supreme over the Crownlands, Stormlands and Riverlands, intent on turning the whole Westeros towards R'hollor.

Ser Jamie Lannister watched the knights gathered as he himself stood behind the High Septon, shifting their body weight from one leg to another as they stood laden in heavy plate armor in the chill of spring morning. Most of them were knights, and what is meant by knight here is true knights; out for glory and blood of the foes. Ser Jamie wondered how many of them will last against the Red priests. With the kind of 'weapons' they use; even the thickest armor wouldn't be enough protection.

"But in the Seven pointed star it is clearly said," continued the great man, "that the true test of a believer's faith come during the darkest of times. You," he gestured towards the knights, "are the defenders of our Faith, our strength in this battle against our new enemies."

"What about the Northerners," asked someone from the crowd, throwing the priest off guard for a moment. On hearing the question, the knight standing beside the High Septon cursed loudly, followed by a similar reaction by the men beside him.

"The Northerners have not responded to any of our calls for help," said the priest, "they still blame the whole South for what happened to Lord Eddard in King's Landing; also for the massacre done by the Freys in the Red Wedding."

_Not entirely right, _thought Ser Jamie. The Northerners had destroyed the Freys under the leadership of Stannis Baratheon and the boy Rickon Stark after the defeat of the Others. They had also helped in dethroning Cersei and Tommen from the Iron Throne. The Northmen were now being ruled by a queen instead of a king for now until the Stark boy comes of age, and had secluded themselves from the rest of the kingdoms.

Sansa Stark might have sent help for the South had she not signed a peace pact with the R'hollor followers. When the Others had invaded the North; it was the Northmen and the fire worshippers who had took a stand against them while the South was toiling with starvation, and was itself raising a host to defend itself in case the North falls to those ice demons they were talking about.

"We didn't go for battle in the North, when the Others were killing and destroying everyone," continued the priest. "That was selfish of us I know, but we had our own problems. Peasants were dying everywhere, and foul leaders were busy tearing down the country." The High Septon's eyes wavered sideways, and Ser Jamie was sure that the priest was thinking of him and Cersei. "We did raise our armies, intent on sending them North as soon as the full strength was assembled."

_Another lie. _Ser Jamie knew exactly what had happened back then. The news coming from the North was terrible to hear. The Others had breached the Wall and had run over almost the entire area. The Southern soldiers didn't know a thing about the North, and the Others raising havoc there added to their fear and reluctance. The High Septon had then chosen to station the troops at the Twins; intent on destroying any Other who comes down with burning pitch and obsidian.

Later, they got the news that the Others were defeated in what was being called the Battle for the Dawn, in which the Northerners had fought against the Others alongside the worshippers of the Red god, who had come pouring into the North from Essos. The Targaryen queen also took her dragons and her small host to the Wall; intent on defending her beloved kingdom. She perished in the battle; and only one of her dragons survived the war; which unfortunately was now in the control of the fire worshippers.

The High Septon cleared his throat, thinking on what he was about to speak when he was interrupted. "They took down Storm's End by using Stannis Baratheon as their puppet," continued the High Septon, "they captured our beloved capital and all the lands around it. They conquered the weak Stormlands. Sooner or later they will take Riverrun too. They killed our brothers by giving them to fire. Now they want the West my brothers and sisters. They want the Reach and Dorne! They want to end our faith and beliefs my friends for good, so that they can preach about their fire demon."

The High Septon descended from his high platform, leaving Ser Jamie and the others behind. "who stands against them now, to protect our history and our religion?"

There was a minute silence, which was followed by a collective sound of the screaming of metal against leather, as 5000 knights unsheathed their swords in a single motion.

"WE WILL," came a collective shout from them.

"Very well," shouted the High Septon. "Then spread this message to all those who still look to the father for judgement; to the Mother for mercy;to the Warrior for courage and the Smith for skill; to the Crone for wisdom and the Maiden for the preservation of virtue. I call all of them to raise arms; for defending what they held most dear." The High Septon cleared his throat. "Their faith and their integrity. To arms fellow countrymen! For this is our final stand. Our crusade against sinners; our surge for a better tomorrow." He looked at the assembled knights with eyes of worship. "MAY THE SEVEN PROTECT US!"

Loud cheering followed the declaration as knights embraced their new found duty. From now they were charged not only protect and defend the weak, but also to protect the very gods which were the witness to their oaths.

**So the whole war with the White walkers is over,and spring has began. But it is not Westeros if it is peaceful for long.**

**Thanks for reading this chapter. I have been thinking about writing this story ever since June. I have enough material in my head to write atleast 5 more chapters. The rest will follow of course **

**There will be few OCs in this story, in order to make it fresher.**

**There will more to this story that just the war between the Faith and R'hollor. The title of this story has a lot of significance!**

**You all might have many questions. FOr example, who are the Lords of the Seven kingdoms; where is Aegon Targaryen, how did Sansa become the Queen in the North. All will be explained in the future chapters.**

**I won't do a seperate chapter to explain the past events. They will be mentioned in different POV chapters.**

**PLEASE REVIEW! **

_**TheSwordInTheDarkness310**_


	2. Casterly Rock

**Chapter 2**

**Casterly Rock**

* * *

Joy was running again.

Spring thaw was all but done in Casterly Rock, the greatest castle of Westeros, with the last of the winter snow dripping down slowly from the roofs as the morning sun shone bright on it. Golden haired people moved about the corridors and rooms of the many storeys in the ancient yet strong castle, doing chores and running errands. It was a quiet and dour place, far from peaceful after the recent happenings in the east; and the commotion caused by the running bastard girl was nothing original.

She had overslept once again, her golden hair still disheveled from the night's sleep. People around her looked with skepticism, amusement, distaste as well as indifference, as Joy Hill sprinted along a polished corridor of her home; narrowly avoiding bumping into people along her way.

That was all the attention she got from the people here, and Joy didn't mind that a bit. Being a illegitimate child of the deceased Gerion Lannister, no one really gave too much thought on what Joy did. This gave her freedom to do what she liked. As for the part of being a bastard, that didn't matter much to her, at least not for some time.

Joy took a sharp left turn, dancing around a poor old servant as she sprinted towards her destination, her skirt flying up to her knees. Even without a silk dress and the lady like grooming, everyone admitted(some begrudgingly) that Joy was beautiful. She was fifteen, and had been saved the torture of marriage when her betrothed died of sickness during winter (it was terrible obviously, but was for the greater good). Her golden hair hung on the sides of her heart shaped face in slightly unruly curls, and settled on her delicate shoulders. Her blooming womanly figure used to turn heads whenever she walked around in the marketplace in Lannisport. People often asked her whether she was married or not, and were often skeptical, and to Joy's amusement, hopeful on knowing the truth. But Joy hardly cared. _There are far better and exciting things in life than having a husband and children, and once you get married you won't get to do any of that._

Right now she was late for her private lesson with Maester Creylen, where she studied history and theology. The other kids found these subjects dull, and insisted on a minimal study on them, and that is the reason Joy requested separate lessons for herself.

Joy entered the library and paused, panting and leaning heavily on her knees. Maester Creylen was already waiting on her. His face brightened up as soon as he saw her. "You are late," he said. Joy could tell that the old maester doted on her, just like the way she respected him like the grandfather she never had.

"I'm sorry Maester Creylen," she apologized, panting heavily. "Leonette was hungry. I had to feed her," she lied. Oversleeping was not a habit she was proud of.

"Feed your cat at some other time. You were the one who asked me to teach you on the alternate mornings, so from now keep your word and never be late."

Joy nodded and took a seat beside the Maester, her breathe now almost normal. He produced the books they were reading for the last two weeks, and one of them was the Seven Pointed Star.

"Before we begin," he said cheekily, "how about a some questions on what we have covered so far." Joy stood up straight; intent on pleasing her tutor by answering all questions.

Maester Creylen began. "Who was the Andal king on whose brow the Father placed the Seven stars of heaven?"

"Hugor of the Hill Maester Creylen. He was the King of Andalos, the place of origin of the Faith" she popped out the answer. Ever since the rise of Faith Militant and the downfall of her horrible half sister Cersei, her interest towards the Faith of the Seven was peaked. It had only increased due to recent major conflicts between the Red God and the Seven worshippers.

"How many sons did Hugor of the Hill have," came another question.

"44," she yelped.

"Very good Joy," he said. "What are the other names of the Stranger?"

This was not from the book itself, but the Maester had told her this separately. "The Black goat in Quohor, The Lion in Night in Yi Ti." She paused, and added, "the people who worship the Many Faced god believe that all three of these are one and the same."

"What does a knight swear in the name of the Maiden?"

"To protect all women."

Maester paused to think, and asked again, "Name the orders in the Faith Militant."

"The Warrior's Sons, also known as the Swords; and the Poor fellows, known as the Stars."

"What became of the ancient kingdom of Sarnor?"

_History now. _"The grassland kingdom was overrun by the Dothraki in the Century of Blood. They sacked every city except Saath, which serves as a small port at present."

"Why did the Andals travel to Westeros?"

Joy bit her lip. "Lore says that they traveled to Westeros because the Gods promised them new Kingdoms in foreign lands. But historians say that they traveled out of fear of Valyrians."

Maester nodded approvingly. "Excellent. One more. Why do the Martells add the title Nymeros in their names."

"Because they have descended from the Rhoynish Queen Nymeria," she replied, "who had come to Dorne after being defeated by the Valyrians."

"Pray tell more," said the maester.

"Nymeria married Mors Martell, one of the five kings of Dorne, and together they conquered the entire region and reunited it into one. This is the reason why women are allowed to rule in Dorne."

"Good good. You have done well." He straightened his back, and continued. "Today we will read about the new religion that has emerged powerful in Westeros. The faith of the Red God."

_The Lord of Light. _Joy exhaled a hot breathe. She looked at Maester Creylen with what he had once described as her 'hungry lion' expression. 'You look like a lion who wants to devour any knowledge I throw at you,' he had said, 'and later devour me with your questions.'

"No one knows from where this faith emerged and spread around; unlike the way we know that the Old gods are of the North and the Seven are of Andalos. It has just always been here; as no records which exist talk of a revelation or a prophet."

"May be Red God is the one true god," Joy blurted out, "the Red priests have amazing powers. I have heard that some of them can even put life in dead people."

Maester Creylen bristled. He was a staunch believer of the Faith of the Seven. "It is true. Red priests can give life to the dead. Maesters try to deny it, but I am not one of such. Lord Beric and the Hangwoman was examples of such. But it can be just sorcery rather than godly act."

"But Maester Creylen, may be the sorcery is also godly, with the men doing being the agents of the Gods to show everyone the power they have."

"Don't say that in front of anyone, for you won't be treated kindly afterwards, "said a troubled looking Maester Creylen. "Yes, that is what many Red priests claim, and what I believe. They can do amazing deeds, but most of their sorcery are just cheap tricks which the common folk can't understand. Let's move further; and from now on ask questions only when I tell you to."

Joy nodded reluctantly, and concentrated on what her teacher was to say next.

"Now, this faith has two deities, which are very different from the Seven. On one side is R'hollor, the Lord of Light or the Heart of fire, who represents all that is good on earth."

_Like burning people alive for not believing, _Joy though wistfully. She did not care much for the gods, but she always thought that they would never punish anyone just for not believing. _There are far better things to do and to be rewarded for than believing and worshiping god._

"On the other hand, there is the Great Other; who represents cold and death."

"Like the Stranger," Joy asked.

"No child. The Stranger is also an aspect of the Seven, and is not evil. The Great Other is the sworn enemy of the Lord of Light, and both of them are always at battle with each other."

"Is it like the Drowned God and the Storm god of the Iron Islands," Joy asked.

"Not exactly, but yes. You see, the Drowned god and the Storm god do not represent two different things like fire and ice. They are just enemies."

Joy nodded, confirming that she had understood. "There are many legends revolving around this faith, for instance, it is said that the Doom of Valyria was the deed of the Red priests when the Valyrians refused to submit themselves and their dragons to those who follow the Red god. Other talks that are popular are that the Fire worshippers have a secret artifact, whose name no one knows, which is the source of their magic power."

"Is this artifact the instrument of the Lord of Light," Joy asked, "or just a glamour to confuse others."

Maester Creylen looked conflicted. "Well," he began, "it is magical alright, though I am not sure about Godly," said Maester Creylen, his eyes uncertain. "People have for long detached sorcery from the Gods. But if all power flows from them as the_ Seven Pointed Star_ says, then sorcery must also be Godly. Besides, had magic been a man made act, every man would have known magic."

"But many people don't know many things," Joy countered, even though she agreed with her teacher. "For instance, peasants don't know how metal is cast. Should they call it magic too?"

Maester Creylen smiled an exasperated smile. "You are too smart for your own good Joy. Of course you are right. Until and unless someone gives us a logical explanation of how magic is done, I will keep believing that the gods have a hand in all the magic that exists."

"But doesn't the Faith denounce magic?"

"It does," Maester Creylen said, "the faith despises anyone who can do magic; as men are not allowed to have such power." He paused for a while, and continued. "I for one think that this should be changed. We should also learn magic to resist the Red God followers. However, there is no mention on how to do magic in any of the text of the Faith."

"May be you have not looked deep enough," Joy suggested.

Joy had more questions, but decided to ask them later. Just when Maester Creylen was about to speak agin speaking the doors of libraries opened and Lord Tyrion Lannister waddled in with his guardsmen. Becoming the Lord of Casterly Rock had not done anything to increase his diminished beauty, though the impressive battle scars made him look fierce.

"I am sorry," Tyrion said in a lord's voice, "am I interrupting."

_You are, we are studying here, _Joy wanted to say; but decided against it. Tyrion was the lord, and one of her few friends. She didn't want to make him cross with her.

"what do you want my lord," Maester Creylen said, scorn evident in his voice. Tyrion had been proved innocent of the murder of Joffrey after Sansa Stark had exposed Peter Baelish's scheme; and he was never proven guilty of his father's killing due to lack of evidence, and the later trial by combat. Since then the Trial by combat tradition was banned everywhere by the High Septon, for it led to loss of good knights for apparently no fair reason as innocents still got convicted.

Even after this the Maester despised Tyrion, though Joy didn't care much. Tyrion was always kind to her.

"Can we speak in private," Tyrion asked.

Maester nodded. "I want to hear it too," Joy insisted.

"You are most welcome to stay Joy," Tyrion said, and turned on his guards. "Leave. I will call you when I need you."

Obedient as always, the guards left. "What is it my lord," Maester Creylen asked.

"There was a message from Oldtown," Tyrion began as he sat with them in front of the table, "from the High Septon and Jaime. Turns out Aegon Targaryen has escaped the Carnage in the East along with 6000 of his men. They have arrived in the Starry Sept."

"What of it," Joy asked. Targaryens were a bad news for the Lannisters. Everyone knew it.

"The High Septon wants to declare him the King of the West, and has asked for the Rock's allegiance."

"And what are your thoughts about it," Maester Creylen asked.

"Not only this," continues her dwarf cousin, "he has asked me to be his hand."

"You can't leave the Rock," Joy blurted out, "you are the only one smart enough to rule the Rock."

Tyrion laughed at this, and his eyes had a wicked gleam for a moment or two. "Joy is right Lord Tyrion," said the Maester, "your place is at the Rock; but the King also needs an able hand. I don't want to see Lord Tarly or worse, Doran Martell as his hand."

"Why don't you invite the king here," Joy said, "Casterly Rock is the strongest castle in the West."

"And will become the target of those red bastards if we give Aegon shelter here," Maester said.

"Precisely," said Tyrion, "I don't care much for the Seven, and the same goes for this Red God. But I am having the feeling that I won't be happy if they take over as I am right now." Tyrion paused and continued, "if the fire worshippers have a target in mind, let it be the one which will be the hardest to crack. I will give Casterly Rock to Aegon; and will support the endeavors of the High Septon."

"Did you get a reply from your old wife," Joy asked. Tyrion was also trying hard to convince Sansa Stark to break her agreement with the Red priests.

"All she has sent is a letter which had only two sentences. 'Sorry I can't help you. Unlike you people, we know how to keep a word.' It would have been much better if the North had joined our cause. We don't know anything about magic, but they do have a lot of experience in this area."

"All the more common ground between them and the Fire worshippers," said Maester Creylen, "we are on our own lord Tyrion."

"I have tried hard to undo this," continued Tyrion,. "I even contacted the Warlocks of Qarth, but the order has not been restored after the burning of the House of the Undying. I tried to contact the masked witch Quaithe."

"Who is Quaithe," Joy asked, and instantly cursed herself for her habit of interrupting others.

"I am not certain. The Dragon Queen told me about her."

"You may find some sorcerers for us Tyrion," Joy said, "but even powers would be nothing compared to that of the Red priests. We need a solid defense, something that has strong roots, like the way the Red priests' magic is rooted to their faith."

"May be," Tyrion said, looking uneasy. "But all this, it just doesn't make sense. We agree that the time is ripe for conquering Westeros. But come on, when did the priests start thinking of conquering kingdoms and ruling as Kings. These fire worshippers aren't being led by some King, Lord, Prince, Magister or even a Slaver. High priests are leading them, and this just doesn't seem right."

"What are you suggesting," Joy asked.

"I am not so sure," he replied, "but whatever we are dealing with, is not as simple as it looks. I can sense it." His uneasiness was troubling Joy.

"Continue your efforts Lord Tyrion," Maester Creylen said, "I will send a message to Aegon."

As soon as Tyrion left, Joy asked her tutor. "Maester Creylen, may be the Seven believers should find magic of their own; as you already mentioned."

"Joy," he was about to speak, when Joy interrupted him, "magic has been mentioned in the Seven Pointed Star; along with the fact that the men and women who were found doing sorcery were banished from the Axe, and later Andalos." It was true. From what she had inferred, magic was practiced in the beginning in the Andalos; until it was banned after some of them probably misused it to cause harm to others.

"If there was magic, and there must have been information about ways of doing it."

"Yes child. But there are no documents here which talk of any magic."

"It might be so," said Joy, "but perhaps we can find something in Andalos, from where the religion came originally."

"What do you want to say," the Maester asked, "that we should go to Andalos to search for magic. Do you know how preposterous it sounds?"

"You are right. It may sound preposterous," Joy said, "but it might be true."

Maester stood up, "I am going to the rookery to send the message to Oldtown. Read the books I brought for you, and come to me next morning. The lesson is over."

* * *

**SO, what do you think?**

**Please review!**

_**TheSwordInTheDarkness310**_


	3. Winterfell

**Hello everyone. Thanks everyone who has favourited, reviewed and is following this story. It means a lot.**

**Here is the new chapter. Hope you like it. **

**Reviews are most appreciated.**

**Chapter 3**

**Winterfell**

"They are awfully close to Riverrun my lady," Lord Wyman said again. "I say we break off this bloody treaty with these red priests. What is to stop them from attacking your mother's home and burn it?"

Sansa listened to her faithful advisor intently; fidgeting all the while on the lord's seat of Winterfell. Her youngest brother Rickon was also seated beside her; the only kin she had in the hall. Arya was out stalking the lands surrounding Winterfell doing Gods know what. Bran hardly ever left the Godswood; with Hodor carrying him out of there only at the times of bed, meals or to use the privy. She was on her own in front of her bannermen; Rickon only being a silent witness all the while.

"Have you forgotten my lord," Harrion Karstark interrupted the Lord of White Harbor, "that those are the men and women who _bled with us_, when the Others descended on us from the North. The magic of the First men and that of the Red God was what drove those monsters away; while these Southerners hid in their castles in the South. I say they deserve what is coming to them."

The monstrous Lord Wyman Manderly stood up ponderously. "You are dumber than wild aurochs Karstark," he spat, his watery eyes narrowed. "Do you think that the butchery being done by the Red priests is out of revenge for not helping us at the time of need?" Harrion Karstark couldn't help but stutter, unable to find a retort for the Defender of the Faith.

_And to think that this man once asked for my hand in marriage._

Lord Manderly turned towards Sansa. "My fair lady. I am a worshipper of the Seven; and will remain so till the moment I die. May I ask, why are our allies not taking any interest in the Faith the people of White Harbor?"

"Because," Sansa replied, "you are my vassal, and are under my protection. "

"That's what they tell you, and you believe," Manderly said. "Aren't they proclaiming that they will rid the south of the foul ungodly faith it practices. Why wasn't the same said for House Manderly and White Harbor? The same is true for Riverrun and other castles in the Riverlands."

_He has a point. _The Red priests had made peace with the Northerners still following the Old gods, believing it to be another form of the Lord of Light. That was the reason the red priests had left whole North and most of the Riverlands (out of respect for their 'Northern friends').

The Lord of White Harbor nodded towards a servant, who produced some pieces of parchment extended them towards Sansa. "These are some messages we have got from the South. They all want your help your grace. Two of them being from Tyrion Lannister, who I believe must be in good terms with you."

Sansa mentally scoffed. "Let me remind you Lord Wyman," she spoke out finally, "that this…man was one of those who orchestrated the deaths of my brother, mother and all the good men the North had sent to bring justice to my father. The Tyrells tried to marry me to their cripple son."

"Lannisters are all liars my lady," Lord Umber said as he stood up, brandishing the stump where his left hand used to be; hacked off by the Freys. "Don't trust any of these Southerners. They will take our help, and then strangle us in our sleep. Remember Lord Eddard my friends! Remember the wedding! Remember what they did. Fuck them all," he bellowed, showering everyone with spittle.

"Remember the Lords of the Vale too then," said the senile Lord Flint. "They brought us our lady back. And where are the Valemen now. Dead, prisoners or slaves!"

No one spoke for a while. Sansa often felt sorry for the Lords of the Vale. They had proudly named her the Queen in the North when she herself had revealed her identity; right after Petyr had done the unspeakable.

_They didn't come for our aid when the Others beset us though. _She was here, the whole time, hearing about the carnage happening all over the North. First fell the Nights Watch and the Wildlings, then Last Hearth, home of the Umbers. Deepwood Motte, Karhold; the Others spared no one as they descended, marauding though her lands. No help came from the South as the already weakened Northmen and the King's men fought and starved and prayed for a swift death. After a while life lost its meaning, except for the struggle and the death.

And then they came, pouring into the North from Bravos, Pentos and all the East, bringing 'godly' weapons with them. This helped her men, for the North had almost exhausted the Dragonglass brought from Dragonstone. Sacrifices before the Trees started again, and magic cam back in full force. The North once again rallied, supported by the foreigners, and fought back; their vigour increasing manifold. They fought to a stalemate. Many fell, including Stannis Baratheon and his family, ringed by Wights and slaughtered. Everything stagnated, refusing to budge.

Her walk through the past was interrupted when Lord Wyman spoke again. "There are two other messages. One is from Hightower, from Lord Leyton himself. He has asked you to send help, even going as far as proposing a match between you and him son Myles. The other is from Doran Martell, who has asked the same thing; and proposed a match between you and his son Trystane."

"And become their lady and follow their orders," Sansa finished bitterly. "No thank you. I will stay at my home as long as I want." She stood up and eyed her bannermen, who all looked uncertain. _Why are they acting so? They didn't complain when Danerys commanded them against the Others?_

"I don't want Northerners to die anymore," she continued. "_We have bled enough my lords_; first with the war in the South and then with the Others. We don't have the strength!" She noticed a familiar figure in the shadows; standing at the gates of the great hall. Her sister had returned.

"May we know our King Rickon's opinion on this matter," it was Lord Gallbart Glover who spoke, bringing Sansa's attention abck to the matter at hand. She turned towards Rickon. The King in the North took his time in answering; boring his blue eyes into the men assembled.

"I think we should follow Sansa's orders," Rickon Stark said. "She is our lady. Those who don't like it will just have to deal with it."

"You heard King my lords," Sansa said, "I would now like to adjourn this little meeting of ours. I have other matters to look after."

She walked out of the hall, and found her sister Arya waiting just outside. "Had fun," she asked.

"Oh yes," Arya said smoothly as they started walking through the courtyard. "You should consider the marriage proposals you know," Arya said, "you are 20 years old. The Northerners would not stand a woman leading them for long."

"They will have to. If the Dragon Queen can command them, then so can I," Sansa said. She did not want to marry anyone, quite contrary to the little girl she was before the Winter. Who would want to, after they had suffered what Sansa had gone through in the previous seven years of her life. She was married once for a short while; happily married, not the time when Tyrion Lannister had unwillingly wed her against her consent.

Harry was good to her in their short time together. When she was with him Sansa had again foolishly dreamed of a happy life, until Petyr Baelish had snatched him away too. "If I am to marry someone, I would like to know the man first; for which I don't have time right now. As for the Northern lords, they were more than grateful when the Red priestesses had helped them fight them off the Others. They will have make peace with the fact that I am their lady for now."

They walked for some more time. Arya spoke again, and this time in a sinister tone. "You know that this will come to an end one day don't you?"

"What?"

"One day you _will_ have to stop fooling around; and go South to help our dear old friends of Lannisters and Tyrells."

Sansa didn't know what to say. "It may come to that," she mumbled. Arya scoffed.

"Don't be stupid. I know of the power R'hollor possesses." Of all the people in Winterfell, only Arya mentioned the Red God by his queer name. "The stupid old Seven worshippers don't stand a chance; no matter how thick plate armor they wear. It was the power of R'hollor that had brought mother back."

Sansa knew of it. It was Arya who had finally put Lady Catelyn out of her misery; with a cold steely stab in the heart. "I know of it. You were the one who told me."

"I was also the one who suggested restarting the blood sacrifices to the Weirwood trees to revoke the magic of the First men." Arya rounded up on her, hands on her hip. "Our men slit the throats of the Freys with bronze daggers, and let their blood flow into the Weirwood roots. The lords didn't like it, even when we were doing it only to the Freys. They don't like the fact that they are being ruled by a woman. Now you are refusing to help the people with whom we share thousands of years of history, letting them being burned alive by you new friends. Don't give our lords any more reasons to not like you." Arya walked away, leaving Sansa behind.

Shrugging away the disturbing thoughts, Sansa walked towards the Godswood, for it was the only place which was quiet. She made her way through the old mossy terrain, heading towards the black pool and the Heart Tree. People said that Stannis's Red priestess had tried to burn it when Stannis had taken Winterfell, but was beaten to it when Rickon was brought back by Ser Davos Seaworth. That was the moment when the short lived allegiance the Northerners had given to Stannis had come to an end; when Northerners had bent the knee again to a Stark, their rightful king.

Sansa walked towards the Heart tree, and found her other brother Brandon seated beside it, his eyes shut tight. _Is he dreaming again, _she wondered, _or is he inside Summer?_

Holding her gown up, she sat down near him. The sound of leaves rustling brought Bran out of his trance. "Where were you," she asked.

"The Isle of faces," Bran replied in a matter of fact tone, "Harrenhal has been taken Sansa. I saw the fiery heart banner on its top. Stony Sept has been taken too."

"They are in the Riverlands," Sansa thought aloud.

"Aye," Bran nodded in confirmation. "They are taking the Riverlands too. We_ have_ to do something Sansa. These people are not just spreading their religion. They are destroying lives of the people there."

"It has happened before hasn't it," Sansa said. "The Andals had invaded Westeros and brought their new religion here. The Starks and the North had stood strong all the while. The same thing is happening again."

Bran gave her a queer look. "The North stood strong that is correct. The Kings of Winter threw back all the Andal armies at Moat Calin. Hence, they are remembered by history as the Kings who defended their faith." Bran paused for a while, letting Sansa to take in the words said by him. "If you don't help the Southerners, youo will forever be remembered as the one who befriended the savages from the East. Who just sat at her home while her friends destroyed her mother's faith and murdered thousands in their sacrifices."

_I have also murdered haven't I. _She killed Petyr Baelish when he had murdered her husband, and had tried to rape her. She was the one who allowed the sacrifice of those Freys to fuel the magic of the First men. _What makes me so different from the Fire worshippers._

"I know what you are thinking Sansa," Bran pushed, "you are not a bad person. You did what was needed to be done, and that too by causing the least amount of damage to others. Please consider helping the Southerners."

"Why do you want to help the South," Sansa let her resentment lash out. "When has the South done any good. They killed father. They killed our mother and Robb. You know what the smallfolk are saying. 'Send men down the Moat, and you will only get a bag of bones'."

"It might be so," Bran said. "Think about how many will your newest allies kill when they take the whole South." Bran called Hodor, the stable boy who carried him everywhere.

"Think about it sister," he reminded Sansa as Hodor took him away on his back.

**If you people think that this is OOC, let me tell you that all the Stark children are 7 years older than the latest books. Their characters have developed.**

**Please review. Am I going the right way with this story? You views are very much needed.**

**See you soon.**

_**TheSwordInTheDarkness310**_


	4. Riverrun

**It has been a while hasn't it? **

**Anyway, here is a new chapter. Hope you like it. REVIEW PLEASE!**

**CHAPTER 4**

**RIVERRUN**

* * *

**_THe Broken Lord_**

_Oh great. Another day._

Edmure Tully scowled as he opened his eyes to the morning light. Yawning loudly, he pushed himself off the bed, waddled to the chamber pot and filled it with warm yellow piss. "_Alyn_," he called his squire, as he shook the last drops off his cock.

The squire didn't come, nor did he call back. "Alyn damn you. _Come here now_," he shouted. This time he heard hurried footsteps. The door opened.

"You called My Lord," asked Alyn Blackwood.

"Yes I did," replied Edmure Tully. "Next time you are late, I will have your head. Pitcher of cold water. Now!"

"Yes My Lord. I'm sorry My lord," the fear was evident in the voice of the last Blackwood as he hurried off. Edmure regretted what he said out of spite, but took care not to show this to his lazy squire.

"The horselords my lord, we saw them again," ALyn said when he returned with the pircher. "They were quite close this time, we thought they'd attack. I was called to arms by Ser Brynden."

"Dothraki won't attack us," Edmure snapped as he washed his face and eyes. "They have learned to stay away from the castles. Bring me breakfast while I go freshen myself."

The food did little to lift Edmure Tully's spirits. He sat heavily, thrusting fish and dried fruit into his mouth, and washed them down with water, listening to the gradually growing chatter from outside as the day ripened. _I should go outside, _he thought, but pushed the thought back quickly. His uncle was more than enough to take care of things, something Edmure could never say for himself. He finished his food, and stared at the leaping trout carved on the now empty brass plate. _Floppyfish._

That was when there was a knock on the door, robbing Edmure of the quiet. Sighing, he got up from to open the door. He knew who it was, and wasn't looking forward to the conversation ahead.

The door opened to reveal the old and ugly face of his uncle Ser Brynden Tully. "May I come in," he asked.

"If it please you," said Edmure, and made way for his uncle to enter his chamber.

Brynden took a chair, while Edmure slumped heavily on his feather bed. "Did you do it," he asked his uncle. "What I asked for?"

Brynden scowled, looking even more ugly. "Wine casks are empty everywhere in the Riverlands, and as you know the roads to Reach and Dorne are sealed off. You will have to make do with ale. Try some sourleaf if you wish."

"I won't have the sourleaf. You all are welcome to it."

"As you please _My Lord," _replied Brynden. This got Edmure real angry. "Why are you here?"

"The Dothraki were seen again. We brought back the peasants in time before something went amiss."

"Everything is already amiss," Edmure snapped, interrupting his uncle. "The Dragon Queen came. The Dragon Queen died. And the Dragon Queen left her horsefuckers behind. Why are you telling me this uncle? Do you want me to fight them? Oh won't that be a pretty sight. The Floppyfish going against the Horse fuckers."

"Listen to me my lord." the old man was surprisingly calm in front of Edmure's spite. "I came here to tell you the happenings in and around your castle and lands. You are still its lord. Your son, he misses you dearly. Your wife.."

"I won't hear a word about that shrew," Edmure replied, now on his feet. "The whore opened her legs for me while her brothers," he felt this throat choke. _Damn them all_. "The woman is nothing to me."

"She calls for you my lord, from her bed. The maester says there is not much time left for her."

"All the better," Edmure threw back. "Damn Roslin Frey! Damn all the Freys and the Lannisters! Damn everyone!"

"Even your son my lord," again Brynden's voice was calm.

"My son," Edmure paused, as his eyes watered. The boy was seven, born on Edmure's sixth day in the Lannister castle. He remembered the day well.

* * *

**"_It's a boy m'lord," cried the midwife as she exited his wife's room. _**

**"_A boy," Edmure couldn't believe it. He almost sank to his knees with happiness. "A boy. My boy," he croaked, tears running down his cheeks._**

**"_The Lady is nursing him m'lord," the smiling mid wife knelt in front of him. "I'll bring the little one to you after that._**

**"_My thanks," Edmure replied as she left. The Lannisters took everything from him. But they won't be able to take his son. The Kingslayer promised that his family won't be harmed. _**

**_He sucked in his breathe as the midwife brought his baby wrapped up in a woolen blanket. Edmure heard his cooing before he saw him, and the soung melted his heart like tallow. "Here m'lord," she offered the baby to him, and he looked at his child for the first._**

**_Edmure stiffened all of a sudden as he saw his face. 'No. no. NO!' The face was all wrong. The mop of hair was not auburn like his. His nose was short and squashed. And the eyes._**

**"_Frey," whispered Tully. "Frey's eyes." He handed the boy back to the midwife. Even the blanket which was wrapped around the boy had golden lions stitched on it. Edmure turned and walked away, wiping his hands._**

* * *

"Damn him too," he spat. "Alyn! Ale now," he bellowed to his squire. Edmure's head was spinning. _Memories! Too many damned memories. _They buzzed in his head like bees, and stung him often.

"I told you to look after him, make him your squire or something," he said to his uncle, "and the wench…"

"She's dying you idiot," now Brynden was angry. "The child needs you, his lord father!"

"I see the boy everyday damn you. What do you want me to do? Teach him riding and tell him stories about knights and fairies?"

"All I am asking is you become the father he deserves, what Hoster was to you and your sisters." Edmure didn't want to hear or think about his sisters, but he did both all the same. _Cat. Oh sweet Cat. They killed her and threw her in the river. And her boy, my King! Damn them all! _"What else do you want", he asked his uncle, looking away from his ugly face.

"I want to ride out and meet these Dothraki in battle," his uncle said. "Do you have anything to say My lord."

Edmure gritted his teeth. "Don't die uncle." Brynden, despite being ugly and insufferable, was his kin. The last of his family.

_They killed them. Damn them all!_

"I will try not to. But if I run into Red people that might be the death of us" Brynden admitted. "While I am away.."

"I will hold Riverrun," snapped Edmure, memories once again clawing at him. "I will hold it damn you. I will do what you say."

"I know you will," Brynden replied. "What I want you to do, is go to your boy and love him like your father loved you. And be a good lord. You people need you." The old man left the room.

_I am the Lord, _thought Edmure. Ever since he was sent back to Riverrun by the Imp,acting on the order of Stannis fucking Baratheon. He turned towards the window, and watched the men at work on the fields; and then he couldn't help but glance at the place where the Freys had kept him standing day and night with a noose around his neck, the place where the Kingslayer had him bathed and clothed, only to be sent to force his uncle to surrender.

Edmure shook his head like a wet dog. _Damn them all!_ His glance moved, to the Tully banners on the castle walls. They had not caught the wind, and were hanging dead on their staffs. Edmure stood there, looking at his banners, waiting for a gust of wind to make them fly, hoping for a smile. The wind never came, and the banners remained limp_._

_I am the Lord, my uncle said so himself, _he thought as fell back on his featherbed. _A Hollow lord with a hollow name, ruler of hollow kingdom, living in a hollow castle._ _ There is nothing left to rule._

* * *

_**The Weary Knight**_

"We have to avoid the lands around Harrenhal," Brynden instructed to his knights and outriders as they drank wine. "Those lands have shadowbinders and sorcerers living in them. We will ride around our lands, taking down any horselord we see. Then we will more south discretely to avoid the Red Priests."

"My lord if I may," asked Ser Patrick. "Harrenhal lies in our fold. Did you send word to the Lady Sansa that the Easterner heathen are attacking the Riverlands."

"Aye I did," Brynden replied. "I won't expect much from the North though. They don't lack for courage I give them that. But they have suffered too much. No matter how big balls they have they won't ride South now. Atleast not in the near future. It's time now fellows. Prepare to ride."

Brynden wanted them to come though. The Northerners had also turned sorcerers when the Others attacked. That sorcery could come in handy against the fire worshippers. However, they learnt and used sorcery alongside the fire worshippers when they together fought the Others. Sharing such experience had had an impact Brynden knew. _No, the Starks won't come._

And the Dothraki, that was the Dragon Queen's doing. She left them in the South while she flew to the Wall on her Black dragon. After her death and Stannis's fall the horseriders broke, wreaking havoc from the Neck to God's Eye. With his nephew being an insufferable idiot, it fell to Brynden to clean the Queen's shit off his brother's lands.

As if his brother's lands and people hadn't suffered already. The Lannisters, the Freys, outlaws; and now horselords and sorcerers. While the Lannisters and Tyrells hid behind their hills and Rocks. Riverlands were burning, once again.

He felt weary even in the morning as he wore his armor and doned his helmet. _I am getting old_, he thought. O_ld men are allowed to be weary._

**Review please.**


	5. Oldtown

**Hello everyone. I am trying to update as often as I can. **

**Here is the new chapter. Hope you like it. Please tell me what you think of it**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

**Oldtown**

* * *

There was another attack.

Sarella Sand watched from afar as dogs squabbled over the man's body in the dumpyard near the harbour. _He was just a sailor, _she thought. Another Eastern sailor carrying spices and Eastern herbs; mobbed and beaten to death at the port while the guards stood and watched. _The King__'s own guards_. Sarella had seen the shining badges on their breast, showing the three head dragon of Aegon _the Sixth_.

"Seventh of such murder," a familiar voice came from beside her, "_that too in the name of the Faith. How…_holy." The voice chuckled.

"Very droll," Sarella said as she turned around, recognising the voice. The grinning face of Archemaester Marwyn greeted her, and she allowed herself a thin smile. "Things are getting worse here, the city of learning. The sailor.."

"He worshipped R'hollor," Marwyn cut in between, "as did the six before him; the fiery demon whom the pious people have come to hate for burning their friends. You can't grudge the people to vent out their anger my sweet."

"If they want to _vent _their anger, organise cock fights or read Book of the Warrior, or write songs about how angry they are," Sarella spat in anger. "Killing is messy, and that too sailors who are bringing us food and spices."

"...And herbs, timber, glass, tallow, what not. The world is not fair Alleras. You know better." Sarella huffed. Of course she knew, she knew it all. But unlike Marwyn, she gave a fuck.

The sky was turning bleak as they returned to the CItadel. "How was your trip. Did you confirm something," she couldn't help but ask.

"Not here Alleras," Marwyn said, signalling that she was to play Alleras now. "Too many ears. In my study." So she kept walking. Patience was her strong suit, so the long walk to Marwyn's study could be tolerated.

They soon lost sight of the port when they entered the main city, walking beside the Honeywine. The buildings were charred, and the outposts broken broken. The city was brought to an all time low when the Ironborn attacked, reaving up to the very heart of the city. Oldtown was healing, but it was healing slow. The Hightower still loomed over them from behind as they walked, resolute and unmolested.

They finally arrived in the Archemaester's study, where Marwyn slumped heavily on his plush chair. Sarella also took her seat. "So," she prodded.

"I talked to many a people," Marwyn began as he picked up a flagon of wine from his table, "magisters, keyholders, sailors, merchants, bankers,whores, eunuchs. It was exactly as we had thought and what the dwarf had guessed." Marwyn paused and drank deep from the flagon. "It's the Iron Bank of Braavos."

"That much we had guessed," she said. "What more?"

"The Iron Bank itself is in dire shortage of gold. Earlier they dumped their gold in Westeros for Robert's feasts and tourneys, then more during the big war after his death. The slavers of Yunkai also took loans when they waged war on Daenerys, and don't have anything to pay back. In total the Iron Bank has assets worth seven and a half million around the world, and all have defaulted."

"Ohh," that was all Sarella could say.

Marwyn nodded. "With the Long Night and the Others in North, total ruin of Slave Trade, wars in the Seven Kingdoms and subsequent trade collapse; all bankers are affected, the Iron Bank being affected the most. Now they think they have a reputation to maintain, and threats of a bank run have made them desperate. The Iron Bank wants its gold back and most of it is in the Reach and Westerlands." Marwyn paused and too another sip. "The Iron Bank isn't alone in this. Loans were taken from many other banks, and they have also joined leagues with it."

"But Braavos has never been a city of fanatics," Sarella said. "Traders, priests, guttons and misers yes; but not fanatics."

"It is a viscious web my boy," said Marwyn. "The Sea Lord of Braavos is in cahoots with Tyrosh, Myr, Volantis, Qarth and even Asshai. The Braavosi may spit on slavery, but even they had thrived from it while it was practised. With the winter and the death of slave trade, the whole Essosi economy is a scandal. You do understand this right? I remember you had forged your gold link."

"Of course," replied Sarella(Alleras).

"Westeros is a ruin, with no strong king and many weak lords, and that has disabled an important spoke in the wheel of world's economy. The elephants of Volantis can't have that, and have thrown their lot behind Braavosi claiming to bring stability in Westeros. Besides, many of Volantis had taken loans from the Iron Bank along with the Yunkaii who had fought Daenerys Targaryen Meereen. They had hoped to win, but the flux saw that they didn't." The Bloody flux had eaten through the armies of Yunkai while the dragons cooked them from above. After the Dragon Queen left Slaver's Bay the disease spread to Yunkai, Astapor and Meereen, wiping out large chunks of population. That was the end of slave trade.

"So Volantis joined hands with Braavos along with Asshai, and these two have no shortage of fanatics. Bennero was the biggest of them and he was happy to oblige, in exchange for gold, lordships and more worshippers. He wants to re enact the Andal invasion that one." Marwyn gulped more wine, and offered some to Sarella. "The Dothraki horselords of Essos also became restless when they could no longer sell their prisoners to the slave cities, so they started looking West for loot. Trade is a ruin, so Qohor and Norvos don't have anything to give to these horselords who are once again united under one or two Khals. With no Unsullied to buy and not many good sellswords to hire, the people of Qohor and Norvos have started fleeing , and guess where they ended up."

"Braavos." Sarella could hear her heart beating loudly.

"Aye," now Marwyn was looking grim as he drank more of the liquor. "Braavos is strong. It took them in and fed them a meal or two, and then sent them to Westeros to fight alongside the Red priests, below the banner of the flaming heart. So you see, these hounded people form a large part of the Red god's legions."

"So it is more about economy than god and faith," Alleras inferred.

"Mostly my sweet," clearly Marwyn was drunk, for he never called her 'my sweet' while in the Citadel. "Don't forget that the Red priests are powerful sorcerers and totally crazy about their Lord of Light. Imagine how sweet it would be to convert a whole continent into their faith. Just the thought must have had them puff up and spend themselves in their breeches," he chuckled. "But it is mostly about economy. Dorne is actively trading with everyone as it was untouched during war and winter, and hence is unscathed and unaffected from this holy war."

"It isn't as unaffected as you think," said Sarella. She had received messages from Dorne, about how Red temples were being sacked by angry Seven worshippers, for their crimes in the North. She cringed when she thought of her own people doing it.

_And Prince Doran is probably still doing nothing._

"So what now," Sarella asked. Marwyn chuckled. "Now," he grinned, "I won't do anything, and you will do what you want. The journey was tiring you know. I will sleep, while you use that well rested body of yours."

* * *

"Your grace," the portly Lord Hightower was at it again. "We have to move. Either to Casterly Rock, or to battle. If we sit here, they will move past Bitterbridge and will take castle one by one."

These talks were insufferable, but Aegon sat through them nonetheless in the soar of Hightower. Often some useful nuuget of information was thrown, and the King wasn't one to want to miss it. He was the King after all.

"I couldn't agree more your grace," said the High Septon. "My men are restless for battle. They will do anything to preserve their culture and faith."

_My men you say, but they will follow me. _Aegon thought and smiled. The reason this whole thing sprung up was due to the power given to these 'holy' men. Aegon wouldn't forget it. "What are your thoughts Ser Kingslayer," he turned to the one handed cripple knight. The man's mouth twisted. "I,..we can't fight them with ten thousand men your grace. Let Lord Tarly come with his host, and Prince Trystane. Even Highgarden hasn't sent its full strength."

"We are not planning to take the field Ser Lannister," the High Septon said. "We mainly wish to hold Bitterbridge. The news coming from Rosby and Stokeworth is disturbing."

"Begging you Highness's pardon, I too have heard the news," Jaime countered. "That is all the more reason why we sould stay here, or move to the Rock. Even for holding Bitterbridge 10,000 men are not enough."

"Agreed," the King pushed to settle the matter. "We will wait, as we have been doing. If you wish to deliberate, talk about moving to Casterly Rock, for that is the place we can defend best."

"My King, my brother…" KIngslayer was interrupted when a servant enterred the King's solar. "My King, a novice of Citadel wants to see you. Alleras he is called, a Summer Islander. He says the matter is urgent." _What now?_

* * *

** PLEASE REVIEW. I really do wish to improve in case of any mistake**

_**TheSwordInTheDarkness310**_


End file.
